Mark Collectors
by paranoid woman
Summary: Summary: Colby can't bear these marks. SLASH, Colby/Ian. Rated M.


**Title:** Mark Collectors  
**Author:** paranoid_woman  
**Pairing/Characters:** Colby/Ian.  
**Rating/Category:** M.  
**Spoilers:** None.  
**Word Count:** 2,393.  
**Summary:** Colby can't bear these marks.  
**Notes/Warnings:** D/s.  
**Betas:** The fantastic twins_m0m and the great Lily G.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Numb3rs.

**XxX**

**Mark Collectors**

Lights in the dark.

Tiny flames that blew in their candles, placed in their little plates, perfectly displayed for nostalgia. Shades of pure white and some golden sparks in the soft blackness, as the city got ready to not sleep tonight.

In one corner, Colby could feel fresh air against his skin, as he had gotten rid of all his clothes and let the scary window open. He was playing with his own short hair; the rest of his body just hung there and would fall right onto the floor if it wasn't for the wall against his back.

The room was so cold and disheveled. The sheets were a mess, all tangled and wrinkled. The pillows were still on the bed. The pile of Colby's clothes was still outside from the moment he'd decided to kick them out. He couldn't have them on. Touching the fabric would take him to the edge, reminding him that he'd bought them with _him_.

A ripped off calendar rested on the floor, a date marked in red.

It was done. It was all done.

xxx

That morning, he'd waited for hours for the first ray of light to come through the window. He'd waited to see it bathe Ian's skin on his bed, hoping it would make him feel less dependent and more willing to say goodbye.

When the sun light had reached his face, his lover had started moving in between the sheets. The thin sheet covered him from the waist down, adjusting to the curve of his ass. Lying on his stomach, Ian held the pillow closer to him and breathed in and out its scent. He probably didn't know someone was watching.

A man with a non-steady life should never get together with one that was exactly the opposite. The scars would be too deep. Colby needed to say so many things before it was all gone – things that he knew Ian wouldn't say back.

"Hey," Ian grumbled as he turned to lie on his back, taking Colby away from his train of thought. There was a heavy silence between them as he sat down on the bed. "So… Today."

"Yeah… Today," Colby repeated, tensing his lips and rubbing his palms. He knew that this day was marked in red on his calendar. He didn't need to make this any more difficult. It was better to let it pass and turn it into something basically meaningless.

"I'll… pick up my stuff."

"Right… Let me…" Colby finally left the bed and went towards his wardrobe. There, he opened the second drawer, the one where Ian kept his clothes for whenever he came by. He reached for a clean, white shirt, noticing the handcuffs that lay in a corner, almost hidden from view. And suddenly something seemed so ironic – regretting the loss of someone who didn't really care.

He started laughing; he'd been so stupid. He picked the pair of handcuffs and played with them.

"Keep them," Ian said from behind him.

"I won't," Colby responded. He turned around, threw the cuffs to the bed and showed the sniper his wrists, full of marks. "I've got every mark I need on my body. The ones from Afghanistan, the ones from my FBI job… even yours." He smiled ironically. "But nothing ties you to me. Nothing at all."

Ian seemed to get the message. "Col…"

"Save it. It's fine. I never asked to be on top," Colby responded, not wanting to get into a discussion that wouldn't go anywhere and would only hurt him more.

"You could have."

"I couldn't, and we both know it." Colby's tone wasn't gentle. "You want to mark people, you want to make a number on them somehow," he stated, and Ian frowned. "That's your plan, and it's fine. Just don't pretend you care about me or whether I'll think of you or not. I don't have the time or the energy to deal with someone who's just not interested the same way I am."

"Wha…?"

"It's all right. Let's just take our separate ways and send it all to hell, you know?"

"No…" Ian muttered, getting up and reaching for Colby, who rejected him. "C'mon… Colby, no."

"Get away from me, this is stupid. All of this was a mistake, from the moment we started…" He pushed Ian's hands away, even if he longed for their touch. "Stop it, don't…" He finally smashed him against one wall. The simple painting that hanged from it moved when they hit it. "Don't touch me!"

Colby's voice trembled but his hands remained on his lover's hot skin, not wanting to let go. Suddenly Ian wrapped his arms around him, locking him, keeping him against his body. "Shhh… It's all right. It's all right," he said over and over again.

But it wasn't all right.

"No, you're a hypocrite!" Colby screamed. "You came here, dragged me into your damned world…!"

xxx

Alone in his room now, Colby pulled his hair and didn't feel like backing up anyone that way again. But there was one truth he couldn't deny._ Don't want to go back. Don't want to… let go._

_xxx_

"And you said yes," Ian had whispered.

That had been it. "Yes, I said it! But that didn't mean that you got to write down a date on the calendar! It certainly didn't mean you'd get to walk away like this had meant _nothing_!"

Ian's eyes were different; he slowly loosened his grip on Colby's shoulders. Soon they weren't touching each other anymore. All his confidence slipped away in the gulf between them.

"I don't want your marks," Colby managed to say. "I don't want…" He walked toward the calendar that hung from the opposite wall, showed it to Ian and ripped it off in front of his eyes. Then he'd approached him without giving him time to react and they both gasped at the contact.

One more sin would mean the world if this wasn't the last day. They'd arranged this date to come, the date in which they would finally stop and make all the evidence of their previous encounters disappear.

xxx

Colby gasped at the memory of Ian's warmth. He wrapped his arms around his own body, wishing Ian was there to keep him safe. Wishing he hadn't left.

It all had been so… _unfair_.

xxx

His words had hung in the air, and the next think he'd known, he was fighting with Ian, trying to punch him, and finally pushing him onto the bed, catching his lips… Telling himself that he'd bruise them until his marks were all over him so Ian couldn't forget.

Yet Ian's hands were on him, too, bringing Colby closer. The bed moved under them as they wrestled, then making a sound as they rocked against each other.

Colby wouldn't fall for these tricks anymore. He reached out for the handcuffs he'd left on the bed and used them on Ian, but his lover put his hands over his head without Colby having to force him. So this was how he wanted their last game to be. Colby cupped Ian's face and brought him up to meet him for another kiss. With his other hand, he started lowering his pajama bottoms and releasing his cock from his boxers.

As soon as Colby broke their kiss, shame came to his heart. He stared down at his lover and saw how badly he wanted him, how he was reciprocating. Ian was slowly opening his legs for him; he'd never offered himself this way.

Knowing that their breaths were getting heavier, Colby stroked his own cock and occasionally let it run over the sniper hairy chest as he climbed up his body. The low moans he was dragging out were so unexpectedly fulfilling.

Kneeling over him, Colby sat on his lover's chest and pushed his hard cock into the hot mouth that willingly opened for him. It was frantic ride. Chaotic, messy, animal. He throat-fucked Ian for all the times he hadn't been able to; as his body burned with desire, Colby thrust in and out of Ian's wet, warm cavity, letting his stiff cock rub against his delightful tongue.

Bastard. Ian moaned from time to time, sending vibrations through and hitting the other man's system again and again. Colby came without being able to hold back, slamming into the mouth that had welcomed him and emptying himself inside. Then, exhausted, he slid out and squeezed his eyes. Still trying to manage the overwhelming aftershocks of his release, he looked down at his lover again and froze at his determination.

"Your mark…" Ian whispered, swallowing cum in between words. "I want it on me."

He wanted a mark that survived time, just as Colby didn't want his to stay. But how many more could Ian long for?

Climbing down the sniper's body, Colby scanned the marks for the last time. He'd seen the scars endless times before, but he could not understand that every pattern held a secret story, a story had that been burnt into the tanned skin of a fellow survivor.

Wishing he could remain in Ian's soul forever, Colby bit Ian's shoulder. One dark mark was left as the other man's body trembled. Colby trailed down the rest of his anatomy making him finally his. The second mark would stay on his ribs, the next on his thigh. The fourth and last would remain on both his hips, an obscure spot full of memories.

"Don't go," Ian's gestures screamed in silence under Colby's rough caresses. But he wouldn't say it. He just wasn't the type.

"No, no, no, _no_," Colby repeated over and over again as he tried to stand up. He'd done it all wrong, no matter how good it'd felt.

He'd found his lover erection and the feeling of Ian's hard, leaking cock against the palm of his hand had been the last sin Colby could commit. He'd collected a bit of his own cum from the corners of Ian's mouth and rubbed it against the slit of his lover's cock.

Ian's eyes opened widely first but then they narrowed in expectation. Colby took his fingers – slicked with his own cum and Ian's precum – and observed how the sniper started lifting his legs and exposing his hole.

He slid one finger into Ian, watching him close his eyes and breathe in hoarsely. Ian was thrusting slightly, asking him to go deeper. It was fascinating to see his eyes demanding, "Fuck me. For all the times I didn't let you."

There would be no joy for him. Ian had hurt Colby enough. He wouldn't have him inside. Instead, Colby found Ian's prostate and rubbed it skillfully, finger-fucking his lover for all the times he'd been on the receiving end. For all the times it would have had to be different.

This was the last time. The last one of all.

When Ian came, hard and repressing a scream, Colby knew he'd won the battle. Satisfied in the most wrong way he'd felt in his entire life, he leaned down and licked a line of warm cum from Ian's stomach. When he claimed the sniper's mouth, their tongues slid against each other steadily, eager, like time had meant it all.

xxx

The perception of time wasn't able to change the outcome. All of Colby's fears had come to life. Less than twenty-four hours had passed, and this was already the future, the one he feared so much, the one that was marked on the calendar. The date he'd refused to think about was here, away from the past and Colby hadn't seen what was in between.

The future was today.

Seven years of fucking around the corners of every room weren't easy to erase. The smell of two bodies becoming one was still too evident, too cruel. The marks were everywhere; the bed, the falls, the rugs, the objects.

When they'd met for the first time and stole each other the first bruising kiss.

When Ian had pushed him against the window during a fight, and he'd almost fallen.

When he'd cuffed Colby to the bed and made him come three times by sucking him.

When they'd play cards late at night and then watched TV, like everything was fine and splitting up would be like taking care of paperwork.

When they'd laughed and celebrate Ian's birthday, the day he didn't want anyone to know.

When Colby had let himself be held by gentle hands on his father's funeral anniversary.

When they'd trusted each other enough to use cuffs and play hard.

When Ian had marked a date – this day - in the calendar of Colby's room.

When they hadn't said "I love you." Not once.

When their encounter that morning had ended and they'd stood in opposite sides of the bed.

When Colby had whispered, "I don't want to…" and the last word, "go," had hung in the air.

When Ian had stood up and muttered, "I'll see you around anyway…" without letting him see his face.

When Colby had known that he was lying and had decided to take a shower to clear his head.

When Colby had come out and found no one there with him, at the apartment where the last kiss had taken place.

When Ian had decided to walk away without really saying goodbye.

Now that the only thing that mattered was the ending of their story, Colby didn't know what Ian's silence had meant. He just didn't understand. The image of his marks reminded him of things he wished he hadn't been through. The destroyed calendar on the floor only made him want to set it on fire so the once future date that that finally arrived would burn and disappear.

"You didn't say anything… You son of a bitch…" He ran his hands over his face, not being able to hold back the tears anymore. Trembling and out of words, he let himself slide to the floor. He punched the floor several times, cursing himself like he'd never cursed anyone before. The place was empty and lonely and creepy and it was just like him. Colby hadn't wanted to believe it, and now he'd been left with more marks than he could bear.

A collection of marks he wouldn't be able to forgive Ian for.

A collection of marks he wouldn't be able to erase.

**The End.**


End file.
